


take me out to the ball game

by marcaskane (noblydonedonnanoble)



Series: Professor/Student AU [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Chicago Cubs, F/M, and I may or may not have written this just because I am HYPED RIGHT NOW, just having a bit of fun in a 'verse that I love and miss tbh, surprise Marcus in this 'verse is a die hard Cubbies fan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 03:58:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8356150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noblydonedonnanoble/pseuds/marcaskane
Summary: The moment the Cubs clinched their division series, Marcus jumped to his feet and began to cheer. Abby, meanwhile, got to her feet for just long enough to embrace him before discreetly stealing away into their bedroom.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So this little drabble takes place a year after the epilogue of my fic "colonies and continental divides," but you don't really have to have read the original fic to appreciate the cuteness here.

                The moment the Cubs clinched their division series, Marcus jumped to his feet and began to cheer. Abby, meanwhile, got to her feet for just long enough to embrace him before discreetly stealing away into their bedroom.

                He was still on his feet when she returned to the living room, running the fingers of one hand through his hair as he used his other hand to hurriedly text someone—Vera, perhaps, or maybe Jacapo Sinclair from the Cognitive Science department.

                “I can’t believe that game, babe,” he breathed, his gaze still on his phone. But he reached out for Abby with his free hand and she smirked, lacing their fingers together as she drew close to him.

                “Is your mom happy?”

                Marcus glanced up from his phone just long enough to grin. “Of course. She’s using emojis and everything.”

                “Well, sure. It’s a big deal,” Abby agreed. “Which is why I have a present for you.”

                He stopped texting abruptly, his eyes shifting quickly from his phone to her face to the envelope that he finally realized she was holding. “You have a present for me? What are you talking about?”

                Abby didn’t answer. Instead, she smiled gently and held the envelope out to him. His phone buzzed three times consecutively, but he shoved it into his pocket as he gingerly claimed the envelope.

                “If this is what I think it is, I might scream,” Marcus told her.

                He didn’t scream, but he swore loudly and leaned in to kiss her hard. “Why didn’t you tell me?” “These must have cost a fortune,” and, “You’ve just reminded me why we’re getting married,” he mumbled between kisses. And Abby just grinned against his mouth.

                “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” she said. “I didn’t want to get you too excited if they ended up losing to the Giants. And before you start grumbling about how I doubted the Cubs, I’ll point out that you would have been distraught if you knew that you would have seen one of the pennant games live if they’d made it.”

                Marcus sighed. “You know me too well. I don’t like it.”

                She gestured to the tickets vaguely. “Even as it is, these are for game 6, so we still might not be able to go.”

                “That’s fine. If the series gets that far, it’ll probably be a great game.” He paused briefly. “You’ve ignored my comment about how expensive these tickets probably were—don’t think I didn’t notice.”

                “It was worth it even if they don’t get to game 6,” Abby murmured. When Marcus frowned curiously, Abby added, “Just to see how happy it made you when I was able to tell you that I got the tickets.”

                His cheeks tinted pink, a reaction that genuinely surprised and pleased Abby. But she couldn’t resist the urge to playfully antagonize him, so she added, “Besides, my fiancé’s a tenure-track professor at a prestigious university, so I can afford to throw a bit of money around. Didn’t you know I’m marrying you for your money?”

                This simply caused Marcus to blush deeper. He inched forward into Abby’s space, shaking his head. “Unfair,” he mumbled. “Breaking this news right after presenting me with my first ever postseason tickets…”

                Marcus’s phone buzzed again, and Abby scoffed, retrieving it from his back pocket. She looked him straight in the eye and asked, “So do you need to send some more texts, or can you give me a few more thank you kisses?”

                To Abby’s genuine surprise, Marcus shut his phone off and tossed it onto the end table in a quick motion. “I have an entire address book of Cubs fans to get excited with, but that can wait. I think you deserve all the thanks I can give.”

\--

                It took only one inning for Abby and Marcus to realize that not only was game 6 the most exciting Dodgers and Cubs game they could have ended up in the audience for—as Marcus whispered, “This is history in the making.”

                Abby had never been particularly passionate about any baseball team, but Marcus’s excitement over the Cubs always rubbed off on her, and that night, this energy was amplified tenfold by the adrenaline rush that every Cubs fan at Wrigley seemed to be experiencing.

                Some of their standard game talk was the same. Marcus had several anecdotes from previous seasons that he pulled out whenever they were even remotely relevant. He waxed poetic about Rizzo, Hendricks, and Contreras. Abby teased him each time Kris Bryant went up to bat, all because during one of the team’s late games, Marcus let slip that he thought the player was incredibly cute. They ranked the aesthetic appeal of how each player’s pants fit over his butt as he went up to bat. All very normal.

                But this wasn’t just a standard game. So much was at stake for the crowd that night, and although Abby was not a die-hard fan to the same extent as Marcus, she felt the pressure looming.

                And then, during the seventh-inning stretch, Marcus cleared his throat and said, “My dad was always superstitious about the Cubs. I know you think I’m bad, but he… he got this idea in his head that if he went to a Central Division or National League postseason game, it would jinx the Cubs’ chances to get to the World Series. So when I was about ten, we made a promise to each other that we would go together to a postseason game for the World Series, and not a second before.”

                His tone was more reflective than sad, but Abby settled her hand on his shoulder anyway. She traced her thumb over the bare skin of his neck, grazing the wisps of hair that curled up around the nape. “Is that why you’ve never seen them in the postseason? Because of your dad?”

                The crowd continued to buzz, and a raucous rendition of “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” began, but for a brief moment, as Marcus nodded, he and Abby were in a more subdued world. And then the crowd got to the line, “Let me root, root root for the…” and Marcus grinned wide as he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Cubbies!”

                It didn’t ruin the moment. If anything, it was a relief, because it confirmed that although his heart was with his father, he was in this game. He wanted to be at this game.

                Marcus rose to his feet at the top of the eighth and he wouldn’t sit down. “I’m shaking too much to sit,” he told Abby. She smiled fondly, stood up with him, and shoved a water bottle into his hand.

                “Please keep hydrating. And don’t lock your knees.”

                The end of this sentence was shrouded by a scream from the fans as Chapman secured an out. But Marcus gave Abby a smile and threw his arm around her so that he could kiss her on the crown of her head.

                _I love you_ , he mouthed when he released her. The hum of the crowd was too much for them to communicate without shouting.

                At the end of the eighth inning, Marcus grabbed Abby’s hand. He couldn’t seem to stop squeezing it. The fans around them were still going wild, but now, Marcus did decide to lean close so that he could shout in her ear. “Thank you.”

                “For what?” Abby asked.

                He shrugged. “Take your pick.”

                Strikeout to open the inning, and Abby’s heart was in her throat. Everyone around them was standing by this point, and so many of them were shouting and screaming. The man in front of Abby was enormous, so she kept peering around him to get a glimpse of the game. When Chapman walked a Dodgers player, Abby had no idea what had happened at first because she couldn’t hear the announcements over the crowd, and because this stranger was blocking her view.

                Marcus ducked down just long enough to say, “If you’d like, I could put you on my shoulders.”

                Abby met his gaze just long enough to roll her eyes and mouth, _Hilarious_.

                And then it was over. She nearly missed it, and from their angle, it looked like the runner could have beaten Rizzo’s tag on first base.

                But she couldn’t have missed the roar that filled Wrigley a split second later, and she knew. The Cubs had won the pennant. They were going to the World Series.

                She was excited, really. She’d always had a soft spot for the team, even before dating Marcus. But as it was, she directed her attention to him immediately, looking away from the field so that she could see the way his eyes glowed with a frenzied joy that only seemed to intensify when he looked her way and saw how happy she was. He pulled her into a tight hug, shouting, “This is the year,” over and over again. To her, to the people around them…

                His smile didn’t fade, but all too soon, some of the fire in his eyes dissipated. Based on his soft gaze, based on the way he glanced between the field and Abby several times, she suspected that he was thinking of his father’s postseason resolution again.

                “Can we grab a drink before we go home?” he asked as soon as the screams of the crowd had died out to some degree.

                Abby considered him. “Of course we can.”

                They didn’t go to a bar around Wrigley Field, because Marcus wasn’t entirely insane, but the place closest to their apartment was still packed with an enthusiastic Cubs crowd, and the bartender gave Marcus a dirty look at the sight of his Zambrano jersey.

                Abby didn’t really know why they were at an overpriced bar when they could have been drinking better drinks for cheaper at home. But Marcus’s motivations became clear as soon as he asked the waiter for three beers, not just two.

                “Another planned tradition,” he offered before Abby even had to ask. "The next time the Cubs made it to the World Series, my dad and I were supposed to drop everything immediately and get a drink to celebrate.”

                “Cheers to that.”

                “Cheers to the Cubbies,” Marcus corrected.

                “Cheers to your shoulders,” Abby suggested instead.

                Marcus smirked. “Cheers to you, babe. For more reasons than I can count. Not the least of which because I didn’t realize how cathartic this would be until I was at Wrigley with you tonight.” He paused for a moment, his lips curling into a smile. “So there’s not any chance you’ve got World Series tickets hidden in your coat for this moment, I suppose?”

                She giggled and shook her head. “Afraid not. You’re just stuck with tv next week.”

                “That’s fine,” he agreed after a moment’s consideration. “There’s always next year.”

                “Knock on wood,” Abby reminded him, surprised that she had to mention it.

                But Marcus shook his head. “No. I’m not scared of superstition tonight.”


End file.
